Never A Dull Moment
by Torchwood Prof
Summary: - It doesn't take much to travel through time. Just a pot of Vaseline, a compact power source and having jumped off of a high building - Harry's all alone. Voldemort can't share the sentiment. So where does Harry go? Why, 1962 of course! WIP.
1. Chapter 1

Author's Note:

The Professor: Hello, and welcome to Ambrose the Book-Wolf and the Torchwood Professor's story, "Never A Dull Moment". Well, this is the Potter fandom, and since the main character has an unusual incidence rate of fifteen hundred out of ten, there wouldn't be, would there?

Ambrose: That's why we decided we might as well snag the title while it was going - it is still free, right? Ah, who cares? Now, in order to get this party started, we need to do the disclaimer - Harry Potter and all other people, places, concepts, species', etc that are affiliated with the Harry Potter universe are the intellectual property of J.K. Rowling, and of course all those guys at Warner Bros. who do the movies probably own a bit too. Any and all other references to outside TV shows, movies, cartoons, books, etc, are not in any way inclined toward encroaching copyright. There we are then!

The Professor: Indeed. Now we can start the story, and bear with us on the science - since time travel isn't very well-documented, we're coming up with the laws you'll see on the spot. So - yah.

Ambrose: I think that's enough for now. Enjoy the story - and make sure you read and review, guys! This is the first chapter, and we NEED-TO-KNOW! Thanks.

(Chapter 1)

_Where was it? It should be here, it should - oh, come on, it's one book (out of nearly two hundred hundred, _his mind rebuked_) in a VERY specific section, it really - ah ha! Gotcha!_ There was the sound of dust, wood and stone fragments sliding off onto a paved floor, and then that of a hand wiping off the left off fragments with a squeak-squeak of a sweaty hand - and then the sound of a flashlight being flicked on.

Harry James Potter peered through the impenetrable darkness irritably - and there, there! There it was, in plain, embossed (still gleaming after all this time in the light) words on the tightly bound leather cover of the book Harry had been searching for - for the last seven months. He gave a heady sigh of relief, which quickly turned into a gasp as the clip-clop of leather shoes echoed around him. He quickly stuffed the tome into his robe and sprang up onto his feet - just in time, it would seem, as Lucius and Draco Malfoy chose that second to enter the room.

Harry had his wand drawn in a second, trained between the two of them, and his mind was whirling like a bird for ways in which to escape - at least, it was, until Lucius began to speak. "Mr Potter. What brings you to our humble home?" His voice was the drawl it had been when Harry had met him nearly six years ago, and his eyes were still the cold gray merciless pools.

Harry felt his Adam's apple bob in panic and anger. He drove himself to speak - maybe if he could keep them talking, he could get himself out of here. "Oh, you know Lucy - the magnificent cuisine, the wonderful company, the erotic mermaid soap bars - " Harry's voice was scratchy and weak - it wasn't easy talking when you'd been hit with a Asphyxiation curse not three days ago, or when you would rather be hyperventilating.

" - or the wonderful book choice, I'm sure." Draco, the carbon copy of his father (save the disgusting scar that ran from his left temple to his ear - Harry felt the familiar strings of pride at Hermione's way with a wand run through him) cut in. "What with this being the library, I would assume that's what your looking for." Harry could see the itching behind Draco's eyes - the urge to belittle him, call him Scarhead, not so long ago abandoned as to be destroyed.

"Dracula! Glad you could join the party - it's not quite an evil confrontation without the baddies backed up and the goodies - well, not." Harry edged back slightly - t_his was Malfoy bloody Manor, surely there was a secret passageway that led the hell out of here!?_ He reached the wall, and grimaced inwardly - he really did have his back up against the wall. This couldn't be good. Nor could that scowl on Malfoy Jr's face . . .

Draco made as if to draw his wand, but Lucius stopped him, snapping his arm to the side - Harry noticed he had drawn his own wand - and saying, "Now, now, Draco - you should know better than to answer back to those less pure, and therefore less fortunate than us. Simply - " he leveled his wand at Harry as he said this, " - remove the impurity. And all will be well again."

"I'm sure you've got a lot of experience at that, Lucy - I've seen your fourth year photo's, and whoo-ee! Lotta impurities there, it must be said." Harry could feel his opportunity slipping like the noose around his neck would do, and his non-wand hand began scrabbling at the family crest. _Luck don't fail me now . . ._

Lucius rolled his eyes, and said, "Droll remarks like that shall simply get you into more trouble, Mr Potter. You really should learn to curb your impudence." With as much energy as a man his age could gather, Lucius angled the tip of his wand straight at Harry's face - there! There it was - a loose engraving, which turned a little to the left it would seem. His hands settling on it, Harry replied.

"Yeah, well - " Quickly, Harry turned the crest, and felt his body begin to pull through space, " - it's served me well so far!" The last he saw of the two Malfoy men was their smug expressions morphing into those of absolute surprise, and he grinned at them.

For once he wouldn't mind having a direct link to Tom's torture sessions.

(Scene Break)

The clunk of heavy leather against worn wood as Harry flung down the tome, and a slight click as he turned on the light-bulb which served as his reading lamp. The wooden chair scraped against the wood of the shack floor, and Harry could hear the creak as he sat down. Sighing heavily, he closed his eyes and massaged the bridge of his nose. Opening them a moment later, he blinked quite a few times - and then finally his gaze settled on the book.

His hands trembling slightly, Harry ran his palms over the old leather, feeling the breaks and tears of age, reassuring him that this was it - this was the book that'd been mentioned in Dumbledore's journal, it had to be.

After all, how many books were authored by Terry J Proah?  
And how many of them were called, "A Stitch In Time: The How's and What's of Time Travel"?  
Just this one, his mind told him, and he had to agree.

(Chapter 1 - End)

Ambrose: I think that's a pretty solid first chapter, don't you think, Professor?

The Professor: Yes, I think we did quite a good job on that. But enough self-congratulation!

Ambrose: See ya next chapter guys! Read and review! Feedback is appreciated - very much!


	2. Chapter 2

Author's Note:

Ambrose: Hello, and welcome to the second chapter of our story, "Never A Dull Moment". Wa-hey! Reviews! Cool - we were wondering if anyone even knew this story existed. Still - a very, very welcome surprise. Now, let's kick off this round of Review Answers with Love is the key to the world (cool name, by the way) - well, here's a little more to read. *nudge, nudge, wink, wink* Say no more! Ah, I love Monty Python . . .

The Professor: And now on to henriette - no, that isn't quite his aim. Let's just say that Harry never had much talent for math, and that neither did Professor Proah. So the date of 1962 isn't so much a choice as a - fortunate accident. M'kay? Finally, we have kubas89 - we believe that a good, strong start is the most important part for a story, and we're glad that we seem to have accomplished such a thing. Let's hope we're second time lucky, eh gang?

Ambrose: And now, to the disclaimer - Harry Potter and all other people, places, concepts, species', etc that are affiliated with the Harry Potter universe are the intellectual property of J.K. Rowling, and of course all those guys at Warner Bros. who do the movies probably own a bit too. Any and all other references to outside TV shows, movies, cartoons, books, etc, are not in any way inclined toward encroaching copyright.

The Professor: Enjoy, read and review friends! And make sure to leave a review, even if it's just to say something like, "You guys suck! Stop posting!" Well, not like that, but you get the idea - we desperately need feedback on this story, especially at this stage.

(Chapter Two - Start)

_"Time travel is not a method of transportation. This simple principle is essential when dealing with temporal traverse, and the best way to think about time travel is as five year old art - that is, art done by a five year old. This parable is very effective, as anyone can do five year old art - and anyone can 'do' time travel. The following things are needed when simple time travel is to be attempted. A. A pot of Vaseline; this acts as a catalyst with which local magic can use to power the actual traversal - this is due to the amounts of petroleum jelly present, which is highly reactive in the presence of magic. B. A compact power source, perhaps a handheld appliance powered by conventional alkaline batteries - this generates a rectification-resistant field around the user, and so allows their quantum signature to be transported through intense chronon energy to another temporal point in space-time. C. A fatal amount of adrenaline present in the user, which is naturally produced on the brink of physical death._

_In short, time travel is achievable through Vaseline, a compact power source, and the user having leapt off a tall building."_

The more Harry read of the dusty tome, the more he felt his incredulity and hopelessness increase. He was going to have to jump from a tall building. He was going to commit suicide in the most ridiculously gory way possible. He hadn't understood about a quarter of the words, but the general impression he got was that he only had two choices.

1. Give up to the Death Eaters. Well, that one was out right from the off - so it had to be option two, which was equally damning.  
2. Sacrifice his life in order to travel back in time and make everything right - all based off the theories of a man who apparently didn't exist.

Harry groaned, and his head fell on the dusty pages. Sometimes he wished his life were more complicated, and that he had more than a Hobson's choice - why couldn't he have a proper 'bacon-or-sausages' choice, like normal people? He lifted his head again, and grinned sadly - he knew that, at least. _Because I'm Harry Potter - the universe's guinea pig._

(Scene Break)

An hour later, Harry had assembled his meagre belongings, and a plan which would probably disintegrate the moment put into action. He plonked the few items he had scrounged together onto the table, and glanced again at the small notebook - she - had given him, which contained his three-step plan. It went as follows:

**1. Jump off of the Hogwarts battlement.  
-------------- (This indicated 'if the book is right') ---------------  
2. Use key to access funds in Potter vault - small withdrawals.  
3. Find - Peter Pettigrew  
- Tom Riddle  
- Dolores Umbridge**

It was a terrible plan, Harry knew, but it seemed to sum up what he knew was important, or perhaps who, in the chain of events. He took stock of his inventory, and knew he was taking only the bare essentials: the book, of course, seventy two galleons, which were also (all-together) worth one hundred and ninety pounds in gold, (at least, according to the ore book he'd found when first inhabiting the shack) his copy of the Potter vault key, the Marauders Map, (which he kept more for sentimental value - he intended to steer clear of Hogwarts in the past - too much potential to undo any changes he'd make) a written list of important events in the timeline he hoped to influence (which ran from 1900 to 1992), what was probably the last SkySlasher broom in England not owned by a Dark Wizard (miniaturized, of course), a First Aid kit with both Muggle and Wizard aids, a snub-nosed revolver (which Harry had swiped from Uncle Vernon shortly before the destruction of Privet Drive - the street, not the house), the obligatory pot of Vaseline - and Hermione's iPod classic, which was perpetually stuck on David Bowie's "Life On Mars".

He doubted Hermione would miss it much.

Slinging the odd collection of - Harry was tempted to call it crap, but thought that might just be asking for trouble -_ things _into the weather-beaten bottomless moleskin bag Hagrid had given him so many years ago, Harry grimly did his Gryffindor tie up (it was the only tie he owned) and leaned over the table, before checking his watch; a quarter to seven. He grabbed his wand, now sporting a rather large crack through the handle (the phoenix feather was poking out, he reflected) and readied himself to apparate to Hogsmeade, and then on to Hogwarts.

Wouldn't want to be late for his own funeral, now would he?

(Chapter Two - End)

The Professor: So, another chapter done. Question is, how's the story so far? That's what we want to know, people! Thanks for reading chapter two - no holds barred on the reviews, please! See ya.


	3. Chapter 3

Author's Note:

Ambrose: Hello, and welcome to the third chapter of our story, "Never A Dull Moment". Look, look! Reviews! Wow . . . purty . . . Alright, enough of that - better get around to answering them in another round of, drum roll, please! REVIEW ANSWERS! OK, first to Quetzacoatls - who has migrated stories, and who we can trust to give us good feedback, by the way - yes, it does sound like something Jack'd come up with. Though, knowing him, he'd probably want to test it first - namely, the Vaseline part, and - well, you can see where this is going, can't you?

The Professor: If you don't, just say so - we'll direct you to the being that is Jack, via YouTube. Now, moving on to Love is the key to the world - which is surely John Lennon's catch-phrase? - we felt we needed a bit of lightness in the chapter, otherwise it'd just be Harry going 'hmmm' in his little shack. We like to get a balance, y'see. OK, now to Moi - if you're a bit thrown by the story so far, just contact us, and we'll fill you in on the bits that you'd like to know (within reason, of course :). And yes, the wand was a given - that's why we mentioned him grabbing it near the end of the chapter. Sorry bout that.

Ambrose: Finally, to henriette once again - well, I think we're getting known for our short updates. It's our brains, you see - they can't keep focused long enough! And our intention was to imply that Harry doesn't have a trunk anymore, if only because he'd consider it unnecessary to bring one along when he could simply have the lot in his pockets - and as to clothes - he lost his last shirt to a chemical fire, so he doesn't exactly have many other clothes that aren't too badly damaged. It'll be one of his first ports of call when he gets to 1962.

The Professor: Now that's over, on to the disclaimer - Harry Potter and all other people, places, concepts, species', etc that are affiliated with the Harry Potter universe are the intellectual property of J.K. Rowling, and of course all those guys at Warner Bros. who do the movies probably own a bit too. Any and all other references to outside TV shows, movies, cartoons, books, etc, are not in any way inclined toward encroaching copyright.

The Professor: Enjoy, read and review friends! Please do leave a review - we don't care what you say, so long as you say something. Cheers, guys - cue chapter!

(Chapter Three - Start)

A muffled pop heralded Harry's arrival in Hogsmeade, and it was with anxious eyes that he quickly inspected the ruin that had once been Britain's only all-wizard village, before ducking back behind the crumbling left wall of Dervish & Banges - it was barely a beat later that Gregory Goyle snapped around to look at the ruined store, having barely heard the pop. Splayed against the wall with bated breath, time seemed to slow as he waited for the notoriously stupid Death Eater to look away.

_Come on, come on, look away you dumb sap - oh, hell no . . . _Harry could feel his heartbeat quicken as Goyle's footsteps seemed to thump-thump forward toward him. He tightened his grip on the sweat-slick handle of his wand, and the words of any curse he knew were being mouthed at a feverish pace - there were dozen's of men like Goyle in the Death Eater's, it wouldn't make any difference if he killed him, he was just a blunt instrument - he was moving away.

Harry waited a few seconds until the heavy footfalls couldn't be heard, and sighed inaudibly. He'd only just arrived, and it was already incredibly close. He forestalled those thoughts, and went over his plan once again.

There were two ways to get into Hogwarts from his point of entry - well, three, he amended, but the third he wouldn't make a Demiguise use - there was the Honeydukes passage, which would take him straight from the village to the third floor of the castle; there was the Shrieking Shack passage, which would leave him on Hogwarts grounds (and in the sight of the up to thirty Death Eater's who were garrisoned in the Great Hall) - and then there was the road which would lead up to the Hogwarts gates.

Harry was quite happy with the Honeyduke's passage, thank you very much.

He had to make his way across Hogsmeade to Honeydukes without alerting any of the guards, no mean feat when one considered the fifty six meters that lay between him and the sweet shop. He shook his head and squared his shoulders: this was no time to chicken out. Heaving in another deep breath, he took another look at the gap that lay between Dervish & Banges, and his destination - the small house that was next-door to Madame Puddifoots.

While morosely reflecting that he would never have the pleasure of detonating the tea house to tiny paper bits, Harry measured the distance in his mind, while keeping any eye out for any more guards. Seeing none, he broke cover and sprinted the six meters that separated him and the safety of the hut. He knew the clip-clop of his shoes could be heard by the dead, but he didn't stop until he damn near propelled himself through the wall cover into the hut.

He caught his breath, cursed his still-hammering heart beat, and strained his pounding ears for any shouts or spells. An aeon seemed to pass as he awaited the inevitable detection, and he was still playing the scenario over in his head for a few minutes more before he realized he'd gotten across safely. Not daring to say anything, he began to make his way over to the back of Scrivenshafts, where he proceeded to have another miniature heart attack as his paranoia (_no_, his mind noted, _this is anxiety - it's only paranoia if they aren't out to get you -_) flooded his mind once more.

Harry had never wished more than he did now that he had mastered the Animagus transformation, as he gazed at the forty of so meters that still lay between him and Honeydukes. There was no way he could make that - not without being caught. _If you get caught, then you get caught, his mind supplied, but if you stay here all night, you're just an idiot. _Though offended that his own mind was insulting him (did that count as self-abuse?), Harry saw the point of the diatribe, and sprinted the distance once more.

Within minutes, he had arrived at the back entrance of the sweet shop, and with no alarms being sounded - though his trousers felt soaked with sweat. Harry eased open the back door, having cast a Lubrication charm on the hinges beforehand to minimize sound, and slowly closed it behind him. He felt ready to melt back into the door as he got over a large portion of his fear of failure, before standing up straight again and making his way down into the basement - it was far, _far _from over.

(Chapter Three - End)

The Professor: So, another chapter done. Question is, how's the story so far? That's what we want to know, people! Thanks for reading chapter three - no holds barred on the reviews, please! See ya next time!


	4. Chapter 4

Author's Note:

Ambrose: Hello, and welcome to the fourth chapter of our story, "Never A Dull Moment". Blimey - updated the twelfth? Sorry guys - we've been a bit caught up as of late, but we're going through our stories and trying to update most, if not all of them - so here we are, a brand new chapter! Now, after this chapter, we won't be doing Review Answers in the chapter anymore - instead, we'll use the Reply system. Just so you know. OK, first to Andromedanaea - Harry will be _travelling _back this chapter, but he'll only really be in 1962 next chapter, depending on our notoriously short attention span when it comes to this story. To henriette - well, the Goyle in ch. 3 was the Junior, and he's around the same age as Harry, so about twenty four, five? He won't be turning up again, so it doesn't really matter.

The Professor: Moving on to good ol' Quetzy (we can call you Quetzy, right?) - it's what any version of Harry would do in that sort of situation, and ours isn't any different. He won't stand on the battlement going 'nah, nah' or anything like that, but he will have a final gesture for good ol' Voldy. And yes, we're going for the whole '1962? What the hell am I doing HERE?' vibe - not to mention it gives us an excuse to set up Harry's love interest. That is, if you _want _Harry to have a love interest . . .

Ambrose: And finally to L'uke-chan - which is one helluva name, we have to say - all charms have their improper and proper uses. And lubing door hinges isn't typically what it's intended for . . . And Harry's a worry guts - he could have a plan thought up by Stephen Fry, Albert Einstein and Zeus, and he'd _still _think it was crap. It's just the way he is.

The Professor: Now that's over, on to the disclaimer - Harry Potter and all other people, places, concepts, species', etc that are affiliated with the Harry Potter universe are the intellectual property of J.K. Rowling, and of course all those guys at Warner Bros. who do the movies probably own a bit too. Any and all other references to outside TV shows, movies, cartoons, books, etc, are not in any way inclined toward encroaching copyright. Incidentally, any suggestions for pairing? It won't be hot and heavy or anything, but we think poor Harry needs someone to love - and rant at, too.

The Professor: Enjoy, read and review friends! Please do leave a review - we don't care what you say, so long as you say something. Cheers, guys - cue chapter!

(Chapter Four - Start)

It was with grimy hands and a wince that Harry Potter scrambled out of the secret passage onto the third floor of Hogwarts castle.

The grimy hands came as a result of having had to feel his way along the darkened passageway - he was quite sure he'd never look at his left hand without grimacing in disgust - and the wince came from the sudden influx of light coming from the still-lit torches dotted about the hallway. Harry's eyes took a moment to adjust, and when they had, he quickly pulled the entrance to the passageway back to it's original place. He didn't want to think about what would happen if a Death Eater came across what was clearly the prelude to Harry Potter's death.

_And it was_, Harry reflected gloomily as he put his back to the wall and sidled along so as to check the corridors that spread out from the hallway in which he stood. He sighed heavily, though without relief, as he saw they were empty - sparing another glance to the passageway (ignoring the small cowardly voice that was telling him he could slip back down it and no-one would be the wiser), he walked slowly and steadily down the corridor closest to him.

_Here goes nothing . . ._

--------

_A break? Just a little one?_

That was all Harry was asking, really - just a bloody break, for once in his miserable live. He peered with not a small amount of hatred at the multitude of Death Eater's that seemed to litter the Grand Staircase, and once again cursed Magical Motion Detectors (Trademarked, of course) for daring to exist. They were the reason he had to go up the main, _exposed _staircase, as opposed to one of the secondary and secluded stairways on the other end's of the floor - one step, and beep-beep-beep.

He was dead.

But it was either braving the motion sensors or fighting his way up the staircase, it seemed - all other ways to the top of the castle were either blocked or being patrolled. He was dead either way, but slightly less dead if he fought his way up. _I hate having to choose the 'lesser' of two evils - why can't I ever get the greater of two goods? _Resolving not to draw out the situation any more than he could, Harry eased the door open, and stepped out onto the staircase.

There wasn't an instant reaction, of course - most of the Death Eater's seemed to think he was another of them perhaps coming back from a toilet break, and it was only when they heard a shout, then the sound of someone being pushed over the bannisters that they realised Harry wasn't one of them. By that time, Harry was racing up the staircase and Rodolphus Lestrange lay at the bottom of the stories high staircase, choking on his own blood.

Fourth floor.

Now the Death Eater's were beginning to wake up, realise what was happening - what _had_ happened. Harry barrelled his way past a black-cloaked figure that somehow managed to be even shorter than him, and then he ducked, as a vicious Blasting Curse smashed a gaping hole in the wall, before being followed by a volley of red, blue and black spells. Harry could feel the chips of stone and grains of dust settle on his hair for a moment, before he took a running leap onto the moving staircase just ahead of him.

He rolled over onto his back, and he felt a twinge of nausea as the stairs seemed to swing around much faster than he remembered, before pulling himself back up to his feet and continuing up the staircase - another volley blazed through the air, coming from all directions, and Harry felt his body go on auto-pilot as he leapt from the top of the first case onto the stone columns of yet another staircase. The rough rock felt like it was flaying his skin off, but Harry persevered - he pulled himself up so that only his legs were swinging in space, before managing to pull himself over the rough bannister, and ended up splayed on the steps of the fifth floor staircase as it continued to swing around.

_Too bloody fast! Oh, I'm too old for all this jumping and leaping . . . _Ignoring the rather off ramblings of his mind, Harry's body continued to propel itself up the epic staircase. Just ahead of him, one of the wooden doors suddenly swung open (nearly hitting Harry on the nose) and another imposing, black-clad figure came running out to brace themselves on the bannister - before Harry pushed them over, sweeping the legs over the stone with a careless, calculated swipe. He didn't stop to watch the squealing male tumble through the air like a discarded marionette and end up lying on the second floor staircase - he was too busy diving onto the sixth floor staircase to avoid being hit by yet another volley of violent curses.

_I'm gonna end up black and blue by the end of all of this, _thought Harry as he struggled up again and started running again - he heard his pursuers shout out yet again, and braced himself for yet another hail of light. Instead, he found himself swept off his feet as the staircase jogged violently to the right, and a there was a loud, echoing crack as the curses once again met stone. Harry looked down the stairs in confusion, and muffled a snort as he saw that the Death Eaters were being swung about like rag dolls as the staircases practically threw themselves around - obviously, Hogwarts was doing its best to even the odds for him.

Then, as Harry once again pulled himself to his feet - he was sure his hands hadn't any skin left on them, what with the impatient grips he had been using all this time - he heard the first few opening bars of _Life on Mars?_ bleating out into the cavernous stairwell, and could only look around in bewilderment, before looking down at his coat pocket - a headphone was hanging out. Realising that Hermione's iPod had been knocked on, Harry grimaced as he sprinted up the seventh floor staircase and through another wooden door.

_What a way to go - jumping off a medieval castle with 1970's pop psychedelia as soundtrack._

--------

_Bloody typical - I'm about to jump to my death, and it's as English an evening as ever._

A gust of icy wind hit Harry in the face as he burst out of the castle onto the battlements, and he winced as he felt, rather than saw, another crackle of light pass just over his shoulder - they weren't far behind. Keeping up his pace, Harry stole a glance over that same shoulder, and he let loose a torrent of swears as he saw he hadn't just alerted the Death Eater's to his presence - Nick Griffin, a.k.a. Lord Voldemort, had joined the part as well. He faced the front again as a bright red spell came steamrolling right at him, and he turned left shortly to avoid the Stunning Spell.

_" - oh, man, look at those cavemen go - "_

Final stretch now - Harry was nearly there, nearly there just a few more yards.

_" - it's the freakiest shooww - "  
"Stop him! Stop him right now!"  
"AVADA KEDAVRA!"_

He reached the edge of the battlement, and he jumped up on top of the small stone block - he was looking down, down at the dark green fields below -

_" - take a look at the law, man, beating up the wrong guy - "_

He turned. Saluted.

_" - wonder if he'll ever know - "  
"What the hell's he - "_

He jumped.

And it was like that flying lesson all those years ago all over again.  
Wonder.

--------

_Thump-thump.  
Da-thump-thump.  
Thump-da-thump.  
Thump._

It was through hazy red eyes that Harry looked through as he lay, broken, on the red grass of Hogwarts castle.

_Thump-da._

It was an odd feeling, lying there broken, on the lawn of the ancient castle. He wasn't numb - on the contrary, he was perfectly aware of the absolute nothing he felt - and he certainly wasn't dead, either.

_Thump-da._

What was that sound? He couldn't tell, his ears were buzzing.

_Thump-da._

_"Let it be known that I, Lord - " Was that his heart?_

_Thump._

_It didn't sound at all right . . ._

_Thump._

_God, he was tired - his eyes were getting droopy, and his entire body was wonderfully warm._

_Thump._

_Would anyone mind if he went to sleep? He got the feeling there wasn't anyone to mind, anymore._

_Thum-p._

_Harry closed his eyes._

_Thum - _

_His heart stopped._

_Nothing._

_Just, sleep. Now . . ._

And, on the seventh of October, 2005, at a quarter past seven in the evening, Harry Potter died.

(Chapter Four - End)

The Professor: So, another chapter done. Question is, how's the story so far? That's what we want to know, people! Did you like it, did it suck, was it worth even reading - you know, the important stuff! Thanks for reading chapter four - no holds barred on the reviews, please! See ya next time!


End file.
